


Riddarasögur

by plingo_kat



Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:43:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ty goes to Norway. The search for Yggradrasil is filled with booze, danger, and absurdity. Also, Anders is an ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Riddarasögur" can be translated to "sagas of knights" or "chivalric sagas," which I felt was an appropriately ironic title for a TAJ fic.

“Took you long enough,” is the first thing Anders says when Ty gets off the plane and calls.

“Shut up,” Ty suggests, struggling to juggle his phone and bags.

“I don’t get why Mum didn’t send Mike, if she had to send somebody else,” Anders continues. “He’d be useful, at least. All you’re going to do is make everything colder.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Ty says again, squinting at the airport signs. Thank god they have English translations. “Come pick me up, I’m at Arrivals. Gate one.”

He hitches his duffle up higher on his shoulder, breathing in the fresh air as he steps outside. It feels crisp and clean after nearly an entire day in and around airplanes. He’s wearing a jacket -- more to keep any radiating coldness in during a flight than anything else -- so he blends fairly well with the multitudes of people wrapped up in winter coats and scarves.

“I can’t see you,” Anders says in his ear. “You should strip and stand around shirtless, that’d make it easier.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stuff it?” Ty says. “I’m right by a blue minivan. What car are you driving?”

“I’m not,” Anders says. “My extremely charming bird-companion guide can operate a car, apparently. I’ve never been so piss-wateringly terrified in all my life. We’ll be in the one that looks like the driver is having a seizure. What? Yes, keep driving! Look for a sour-looking fellow with dark hair. Ty, stick your hand up and wave or something.”

Ty rolls his eyes but does so.

“Oh, all right, we see you. One sec.” The line goes dead. “Over here!”

Anders is leaning out of a window, waving energetically. He has gloves, a beanie, a scarf, and a _beard_. Ty fights hard not to grin as he jogs over.

“You look cold.” He throws his duffle, then backpack, onto the seats, sliding in after them.

“We aren’t all freaky ice gods,” Anders says. “Speaking of, glad to see you haven’t snuffed it with that Hel-bitch.”

The bottom drops out of Ty’s stomach. He tries not to let it show in his voice. “Yeah. Uh, I thought it might be good to take a break. And don’t call her that!”

“I’m just telling it like it is, little brother,” Anders says. “I mean, even Loki thinks she’s a fuckup, and he’s her father. Not that fathers are necessarily good judges of character, mind.”

Ty very carefully doesn’t think of their own father. “Whatever,” he says. “I’m beat. Wake me up when we get to the hotel.”

“Oi!” Ty blinks his eyes open. “Give me a hug, at least. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“That’s your own fault,” Ty points out, but leans forward enough to awkwardly put one arm around Anders’ shoulders. “It’s good to see you, Anders,” he says, and is surprised to find that he’s telling the truth.

 

The hotel has soft sheets and an enormous mattress, which Ty appreciates immensely. Agnetha has spared no expense; he and Anders share a suite, two rooms with adjoining bathrooms off a main living area. There’s even a jacuzzi.

He wakes up starving.

“Hey.” Anders glances up from the laptop balanced on his thighs. His feet are propped up on a low glass coffee table, the television in front of him playing an incomprehensible movie in Norwegian. There seem to be a lot of screaming busty blonde women in very little clothing, and possibly aliens. “There’s coffee over there in the pot.”

“Food?” Ty stretches as he walks, sore in strange places from sitting in an airplane too long.

“Room service,” Anders says. “Don’t order the sheep’s head thing. Or the lard.”

“What?” Ty makes a face. “A sheep head? I’ll take something normal. Like eggs.” He finds a mug in the sink (there’s an actual sink, this place is like an apartment, christ) and rinses it out before pouring himself some coffee.

When he turns around again Anders is already by the hotel phone. “Yes, hello, I’d like to order room service.” He covers the receiver. “What kind of eggs do you want?”

“Omelette.”

“An omelette, custom. Oh, of course you have custom omelettes. You want to keep your guests happy, don’t you? You _want_ to make me an omelette just the way I like it… that’s right. With tomatoes, spinach, onions, mushrooms, and bacon. Cheddar cheese on top. Throw in some chocolate chip pancakes while you’re at it. And orange juice! Thanks, you’re wonderful. I appreciate it. Send it up as soon as it’s done.”

“Really?” Ty says. “You’re using your powers to order breakfast?”

“Hey, it’s for you so you can shut it,” Anders says. “I got your favorite type of omelette because I’m an awesome big brother. Now go take a shower before the food comes, I can practically smell the airplane on you from here.”

“I missed you too,” Ty says, but Anders is right. He feels filthy and probably does smell a bit, so he goes.

The food is there by the time he gets out, and he only bothers to pull on a t-shirt and sweatpants before leaving his room. Anders has already begun to dig into the pancakes.

“Those are mine!”

“You snooze, you lose,” Anders says, handing over a fork. “I left you your omelette.”

“You’re allergic to mushrooms.”

“Which doesn’t mean I couldn’t have eaten your omelette.”

“Mmff,” Ty says, mouth full. The omelette is cold and tasteless, but he imagines he can feel the warm steam on his skin, the sharpness of the melted cheese against the eggs and tomatoes. It kickstarts his appetite and he all but shoves the next bite into his mouth.

Anders tries to sneak a bite with his fork. Ty stabs the tines of his own fork between Anders’, and they spend the next thirty seconds trying to untangle the mess of metal.

“Give me some pancakes,” Ty says.

“They’re _my_ pancakes. I ordered them!”

“For _me_ ,” Ty says, gripping Anders’ wrist and reaching over to grab his plate. “They’re _my_ pancakes.”

It seems like it’s going to turn into an is-not-is-too thing, a phase they went through when Anders was ten and wanted to argue about _everything_. But then Anders holds up his hands, fork tucked between his thumb and his palm, his lips quirked upwards in a smile.

“Fine,” he concedes. “You look like you need it.”

“Whatever,” Ty mutters. Everybody -- by which he means his family, when they’ve seen him -- has been commenting on how terrible he looks. Ty has noticed that he seems even paler than usual, that his eyes have shadows under them and his ribs seem to be standing out more prominently even though he eats a lot of meat. There’s nothing he care to do about it, though, and Hel likes him as he is.

(It’s with the ease of practice that he pushes the thought of Hel liking him being a bad thing to the back of his mind.)

“Don’t look so sour,” Anders says, clapping him on the back. “Now that you’re here, I can set you up for a bit of rest and relaxation.” His leer makes it clear that he isn’t talking about sitting in the jacuzzi. Then again, knowing Anders, sex in the hot tub isn’t out the realms of possibility.

“No thanks.” Ty rolls his eyes. “I’m married, remember? And I wouldn’t trust your taste in women anyway.”

“Well Agnetha’s working on your first problem, and your taste is clearly defective.” Anders shrugs. “I’ve met plenty of nice girls while I’ve been here.”

“You’ve been here two weeks,” Ty points out. He struggles not to yell at Anders about their mother. “How many people can you sleep with? You’re supposed to be looking for Yggdrasil.”

“And I have been!” Anders holds up his glass of orange juice like he’s giving a toast. “Making connections among the local populace is very important.”

“It’s not making connections if all you do is drink, fuck, and pass out.”

Anders snorts. “Clearly you haven’t been to many parties.”

“We can’t all be like you.”

“The world couldn’t handle that much awesome,” Anders agrees. He drains his glass and stands, depositing his fork in the sink. “Come on, finish up. You wanted to know if I’ve been looking for Yggdrasil? I’ve got a lead to track down today.”

Ty shovels the last few forkfuls of food into his mouth. The conversation about their mother will keep.


	2. Chapter 2

It turns out that their destination is some random Uni.

“University of Nordland, Ty,” Anders says. “We’re entering a font of knowledge or whatever, show some respect.”

“That’s rich coming from you. What, are you planning to sleep with a bunch of co-eds?”

“As it turns out, baby brother,” Anders turns in his seat to address him. “The Norse mythology professor is one lovely lady. A little older than my usual, but.” He shrugs, smirking. “I’m sure that’ll just mean she’s… _experienced_.”

“Ugh.” Ty rolls his eyes. “Please. I don’t want to know.”

_“You_ could pick up a co-ed,” Anders says. “You’re not too bad-looking, except for how you’re a miserable bastard all the time.”

“Fuck you,” Ty sighs. It’s a feeble thing, repeated often when when Anders invades his apartment, calls him at three in the morning, drags him out on some inane errand. 

“You only wish.” Anders grins at the face Ty makes, hopping out of the car as it rolls to a stop. He slaps a hand down on the hood. “Oi, thanks. We’ll take a taxi back, no worries.”

The driver nods, says something in Norwegian, and rolls up the windows.

“Did Agnetha pay for the car service?”

“Mum paid for everything,” Anders shrugs. “Or at least she will when I send the bill to her. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried,” Ty mutters. “Why would I be worried? Oh, wait, because a goddess who used to be our mum who was a tree sent us over here to find Yggdrasil.”

Anders has already started striding off. “You coming?” he calls.

Ty gives him the finger.

 

“Professor Nygård.” Anders shakes hands and executes an elegant half-bow. “My name is Anders. This is my colleague, Tyrone.”

“Ty,” Ty corrects as he holds his own hand out.

“Then call me Elin, please.” Her English is pleasantly accented, inflections rising and friendly. “I was surprised when you wanted to speak to me about the _Edda_. It is unusual for those not in the field to be interested.”

“Well we’re more interested in the story of Yggdrasil, to be honest.”

“Yggdrasil?” Nygård’s eyebrows raise. “That is quite contested information. Some scholars do not even agree that it ever existed.”

“But you do.” Anders claims a chair and settle back, crossing his legs.

“I do, yes.”

“Well, then,” Anders grins. “We’re listening.”

 

“Oh my god,” Anders says as they leave the building. “That took _forever_.”

“You could have just asked her to email you or something.” Ty rolls his shoulders. His muscles are tight, protesting the time spent in inactivity after his long plane ride the other day.

“I work better face to face, you know that,” Anders sniffs. 

“You just wanted to perv over an actual professor.” Ty steps closer, knocking Anders off course with his larger bulk.

“And you’re trying to bully me!” Anders glares up at him. “That hasn’t worked since you were seventeen and finally stopped falling all over yourself after your growth spurt.”

“I did win all of our fights then, didn’t I,” Ty agrees smugly.

“If I remember right, after the second time you tried to wrestle with me you went down with a knee to the--”

“Okay,” Ty interrupts, grimacing. He’d almost managed to forget why he no longer tries to grapple with his older brother. Anders has absolutely no sense of proportion, and he doesn’t hesitate to fight dirty. “Let’s stop talking about this, please.”

“We could talk about how totally useless that was,” Anders suggests. “I mean, a tree where Odin hangs himself? I don’t really want Axl dead, Ty.”

“She also told us it connected dimensions and had a dragon in it. I don’t think we should take it literally.”

“There better not be snakes, is all I’m saying.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ty says. “It’s way too cold for snakes.”

They argue cheerfully over this point, shoving and pinching and elbowing, until Anders catches sight of a bar.

“Oh, no,” Ty says, throwing an arm over Anders’ neck and dragging him in the opposite direction. “We aren’t getting drinks at…”

He trails off. The watch on his wrist reads a blithe eight PM in contrast to the sun shining high in the sky.

“Forgot to set your watch?” Anders sounds strangled but smug. “It’s two-fifteen in the afternoon. Which is completely acceptable for drinking, I’ll have you know.”

“In what world?” Ty demands.

“In my world.” Anders finally wriggles free of Ty’s hold and punches him in the arm, hard.

“Ow!” Ty flinches.

“Serves you right.” Anders adjusts his shirt and jacket, then runs a hand through his hair. “But fine. If you don’t want alcohol, we can get lunch. They do some really good fish here,” he adds, looking a little dreamy.

Ty shrugs. For a second Anders’ face flickers in something like sympathy, but then he shoves his wrist in front of Ty’s face and grins his most annoying grin.

“Check the time and set your watch.”

“Get your hand out of my face first.”

“Or what, you’ll lick me?”

“Or else I’ll _bite_ you.”

All told, it takes them another half hour to settle on a restaurant.

 

“So what are we going to do now?” Ty flops down onto the sofa, watching Anders unwind the scarf from around his neck. “The uni was a bust.”

“Uni was trying to go through legit channels,” Anders says. He grabs Ty’s ankles and shoves them off the cushions, sitting down in their place. Ty immediately sticks his feet back onto Anders’ lap. “Now we go through all the unofficial sources. Like Loki versus… whoever the legit person would be. An actual lawyer.”

“This is going to involve drinking, isn’t it.”

“And drugs, if we’re lucky,” Anders agrees cheerfully. “The bird-man, if we’re not.”

“What’s up with him, anyway?” Ty tips his head back against an armrest, looking through half-lidded eyes at Anders’ hands moving through the air. It’s kind of funny, he thinks, how well Anders fits into the caricature of a short man: overcompensating, too much energy to fit into such a small body. Surprisingly good with women.

“I have _no_ idea,” Anders says. “I bet somebody a hundred years ago fucked a swan or something. That happens in myths, you know.”

“That’s disgusting,” Ty says. “How would it even fit?”

“I just said I didn’t want to know, didn’t I?”

“You’re the one who said shit about fucking a swan.” Ty stifles a yawn. He’s full and the couch is comfortable, but he just woke up four hours ago. He shouldn’t be sleepy again.

Anders, of course, notices. “Take a nap,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll wake you up when we need to go out again. Tell me you brought something nicer than a sleeveless and jeans.”

“I brought button-downs.” Ty wrinkles his nose. “But no ties. I refuse to wear ties on vacation.”

“It’s not a vacation,” Anders says. “It’s a quest. A mission.”

“Whatever.” Ty closes his eyes. “Like you haven’t been spending Agnetha’s money on useless tourist crap.”

“She gave me her card,” Anders voice is soothing even when he’s being a little shit. Which is all the time, granted. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“Be responsible?” Ty says. “Tell us she was our mum?”

“Well,” Anders’ thighs shift under Ty’s calves. “Let’s save that screaming match for later, yeah?”

“You are _such_ an ass,” Ty sighs, feeling the creeping lassitude in his limbs reach for his brain.

Anders’ voice is the last thing he hears before the dreams take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I know about Yggdrasil I got from [Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yggdrasil). The Johnson boys are, of course, butchering all the mythology. (Anders' reference to the swan? [Zeus & Leda](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leda_and_the_Swan).) 
> 
> Nothing much happened this chapter, unfortunately. Next update should include 100% more shenanigans and Norse mythology elements in the modern day. Is it bad that I really just want to have a whole underground supernatural community a la Dresden Files or Matthew Swift? No? Okay then.


	3. Chapter 3

There are places in the world where the earth is old, where blood has been spilled and power soaks the air, where plants have special properties and animals may have a set of metaphysical wings. Or might not be animals at all.

There are places where gods gather. Where seasons change. Where religions are born.

And there are lesser places, where only an alert individual can feel the tingle on their skin, and eyes can only see the hint of something otherworldly in the flash of a tattoo, the crooked carving of what might be a rune. Places, in fact, like a bar in downtown Bodø.

“I’m telling you,” Anders says, holding out an arm without being prompted. They’ve been to two clubs and three bars already, and Ty has collected stamps on his wrists: a star and a stylized wave placed prominently over the vein. “I’ll know it when I feel it, okay? I’ve been to one of these places before. There’s this tickly feeling, kind of like being turned on.”

“Are you sure that isn’t because you saw a woman?” Ty’s voice is flat. It’s a legitimate concern, up there with the possibility of Anders being drunk, or high, or both.

“You’ll see,” Anders insists. Ty’s arm is once again stamped (this time with -- he squints at the ink -- a horse) and he nods his thanks to the doorman.

He’s opening his mouth to reply when he steps across the threshold and twitches so violently he nearly falls on his face

“Phew!’ Anders shakes himself, head to shoulders to hips like a dog, then spreads his arms wide and wriggles his fingers. “See? Tingly.”

“You could have warned me!” Ty rubs his elbows and tries to bend his pinkies. It feels like he hit his funny bone, but all over. “What _was_ that?”

“I did warn you.” Anders is still grinning. “And like I said, magic. It does exist.”

“Anders.” Ty just wants to _shake_ him sometimes. “We’re gods, I know magic exists. Just -- not like this. Did you always know about these places?”

“It’s Norway. We’re Norse gods.” Anders shrugs. “Everything is stronger for us here. You haven’t noticed?”

“It’s not like I’ve had a chance to do anything with my powers.” Ty leans in close, trying not to be overheard. “What, am I going to have a chance to do some ice carving?”

Anders pulls away to flick his ear. Ty pokes him in the ribs. “You perk up whenever we’re out in the disgustingly cold weather. Look less likely to keel over and die.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I’m your favorite,” Anders shoots back, then leans over to order drinks. Ty is glad; he doesn’t speak a word of Norwegian and wouldn’t like to try. He’ll get along with simplistic English and lots of hand gestures. Anders always did have a knack for languages though, probably because of Bragi.

“So what are we doing here, then?”

“Concentrations of magic,” Anders hands him his drink and they clink glasses, “mean that there are magical people around.”

“There are gods here?” Ty twists his head to sweep the room, wondering if he can feel that strange pull of another god (or goddess) just by looking.

“Or dwarves, or giants, or, like,” Anders gestures, drinks, licks the rim of his glass. “Wizards and shit. I’m waiting for a valkyrie. I bet they’re total tigers in bed.”

Ty is actually worried that his eyes will cramp from how much he’s rolling them. He hasn’t spent this much uninterrupted time with Anders since before either of them turned twenty-one and their lives became fucked up soap operas.

“So what, you’re going to Jedi mind trick them into telling us about Yggdrasil? Does your voice even work on other… you know?”

“Gods are at the top of the food chain. Why wouldn’t it work?”

“Because the universe hates us and our lives suck?”

“My life doesn’t suck,” Anders says. He knocks the rest of his drink back, eyes following a woman across the room: short skirt, low top, knee-high boots winding her way towards the bar. “In fact, it’s going to get a lot better pre-tty soon.”

“No you don’t.” Ty misjudges the distance a little and his hand slips into the open gap of Anders’ jacket instead of all the way across his chest. “We’re here to work. We’re on a _quest_.”

“We need to get you another drink,” Anders says.

“I give up.” Try begins to throw his hands up, but his arm is still in Anders’ jacket and gets stuck somewhere around his armpit. “You are the most irresponsible--”

“Well you need to get your hand out from under my shirt, who’s the gayest god now--”

“If you weren’t so short this wouldn’t be a problem--”

“Who are you calling short?”

“--swear I could have just pulled my hands free if you were taller--”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m going to--”

“Excuse me?”

Ty and Anders look up. Ty’s face is mashed into Anders’ shoulder, bent forward at the waist with his forearm trapped under Anders’ bicep. Anders himself is twisted around with one leg between Ty’s and an elbow digging into his ribs. They release each other, trying to untangle themselves.

“Sorry about that.” Anders presents a hand, brushing a kiss over the woman’s knuckles instead of shaking. “I’m Anders. This is Ty.”

Ty waves. She smiles and nods, short-cropped hair and upturned nose reminding him abruptly of a painting he’d once seen; seven pixies dancing on mushrooms, laughing in the moonlight.

“Dagny.” 

“Dagny,” Anders drawls, lingering over the vowel sounds. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Are either of you boys going to buy me a drink?”

“I don’t know.” Anders is already encroaching on her personal space, quirking his lips just so and looking up at her through half-lidded eyes. “Are you going to tell me what you like?”

She touches Anders briefly on the shoulder. “How about honey cider?”

“Mead?” Anders’ eyebrows shoot up, but he recovers quickly. “Good choice. I’ll go get us some, shall I?” He runs his fingers down her arm, lingers at her wrist and strokes the skin over the back of her hand before turning away.

“Mead?” Ty says, crossing his arms. He doesn’t like how the coincidences are piling up. First the weird spine-tingling magic _whatever_ , and now a mysterious woman showing up with a taste for ancient Norse drinks? This is about the time where Johnson lives get royally fucked up.

“Mm,” Dagny says. She cocks her hip, wraps an arm around her middle and taps slender fingers against her waist. “Ty.” She sounds thoughtful. “Tyrone… _Höðr_.”

Ty jerks. “How--? Who are you?” These are the times that he wishes he had a more active power, like Anders or even Mike, who is almost supernaturally good with old huntsman weapons, rather than wishing he has no powers at all.

“Oh…” She pouts at him, wide eyes and a finger on her lower lip, hips twisting coyly in her sheet black tights. “Just a ruler of men. I’ve no dominion over _your_ kind, _áss_.”

“How do you know about gods?” Ty hisses, stepping closer despite himself. He’s tense, feels a kind of wildness rising behind his eyes. It may be panic.

“It’s my job.” Dagny wrinkles her nose. “No, more like it’s my nature. Like yours is to be gloomy and boring.”

“I am _not_ \--” Ty says, but Anders chooses that moment to come back, three glasses in hand.

“One honey cider for the lady,” he says, bestowing the pale beige liquid into her hands. “And two shots of whiskey for me! None for you, Ty.”

“Whatever.” Ty is too rattled to be offended. “We should leave. You,” he points to Dagny, “should leave.”

“Whoah, whoah!” Anders puts his hands up and nearly spills whiskey all over his shirt. “You should _not_ leave,” he says to Dagny. To Ty: “Please don’t be a dick.”

“I can’t leave yet,” Dagny confirms. “I need to, mm. Talk to you. Confide.” She slinks closer to Anders. “Whisper in your ear. Intimately.”

“Get your hands off him,” Ty grits out. Anders may have salted his drinks and mixed up his socks and inflicted a hundred other little indignities upon Ty in their youth, but they’re brothers. Letting an unknown person who knows about gods get their hands on him isn’t an option.

“Silence, _Höðr_ ,” she says, flicking a glance his way. She doesn’t notice Anders’ eyes becoming suddenly sharp, the tension rippling down his spine. Ty does, and fights to keep a slightly panicked, angry expression on his face instead of the vindictive smirk that wants to break free.

“Babe,” Anders says, voice smooth and deep, ringing with a faint echo in Ty’s ears. He wonders what Dagny hears. “Ignore my brother, he isn’t important. You wanted to talk to me, didn’t you? You want to tell me what you’re doing here. I’d love to listen to how you know who we are.”

Dagny laughs, high and sharp. Anders puts down his drinks. Neither Anders nor Ty are smiling anymore.

“Please,” she says scornfully. “As if a diminished minor god could cast a spell over _me_. While your line has forgotten as much as the mortals have, the _nornir_ have cultivated belief. We’re as strong as the tree’s roots.”

“You know about Yggdrasil,” Anders says. He and Ty are standing shoulder to shoulder. Anders has a palm cupping his elbow, the other hand touching knuckles to lips; Ty has his arms crossed across his chest. “Care to share?”

“‘Ware the tooth-barer, grinding danger. Listen well: intimacy is the springwell of warmth. It’s entirely possible you’ll die on this quest, but personally I think you two will look very cute together doing it.” 

She blows them a kiss, turns on her heel, and walk away. Anders and Ty look at each other.

“Crazy?”

“Crazy.”

They nod. Anders picks up both of his whiskeys and hands one to Ty. They knock them back at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent much too long researching names and old norse sagas for this chapter. In case you wanted some name meanings/translations, here you go!
> 
>   * Dagny = “New Dawn”
>   * _áss_ = singular male form of _æsir_
>   * _nornir_ = plural form of _norn_ , or the female beings who rule the fate of men (and gods)
> 


**Author's Note:**

> I blame [justalittlebitspecial](http://justalittlebitspecial.tumblr.com/) for this, because otherwise I would have just complained about there not being a "Ty goes to Norway" fic forever instead of actually doing something about it. So thanks for that, spesh. I guess.


End file.
